


All That Glitters

by Cate Shaw (Bluebell84)



Category: Tom Hardy - Fandom
Genre: AU Tom Hardy, Bodyguard, Dancer, Danger, European tour, F/M, Pop star, Romance, Sex, Tom Hardy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-04-06 08:17:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4214709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebell84/pseuds/Cate%20Shaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roxie is a little miss diva to whom (AU) Tom Hardy is assigned. During her European tour, he's to be her bodyguard whether she likes it or not. And whether she likes it or not, she does need him, in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tom needed a drink. Something to calm his nerves. One glass of whiskey oughta do it, but he couldn't. Not if he wanted to keep this job, and God knows he needed it. 

He rubbed his hands together, realizing his palms were sweaty. Why was he so goddamn nervous? He brushed his hands down the front of his shirt and took a slow, deep breath. Slipping his hand into his back pocket, he was relieved to find a toothpick, popping it between his lips. Glancing at the pass around his neck, he tried to memorize his new clients name. _Roxana._ Sounded stuck up already. Following the directions he was given at the gate of the studio, he maneuvered down the maze of hallways until the beat of the, what was it, hip hop? Electronica? Whatever it was, it grew louder, confirming he was going the correct way.

The studio was dark except for bursts of colorful lighting now and then accompanied by dry ice. Dancers moved in sync around a young blonde with long and perfectly wavy tresses. The colorful strobes stopped their panicking and a solid spotlight was cast down on who Tom could only assume was his client. Roxana. 

She ran her hands up the length of her torso, teasingly stroking her neck until running her fingers through her hair. Tom stopped in his tracks and watched, chewing his toothpick a little harder. Roxana swayed her hips to the beat, lip-syncing to the track playing throughout the studio. Tom's eyes made their way down her long legs, following the thin straps wrapped around her calf muscles, down to her dainty ankles. Thin heels gave her extra height, making her calf muscles prominent. He swallowed hard, appreciating the look of sex upon her feet. He had a thing for nice shoes. His eyes wandered back up and it wasn't until she glanced his way that he realized he was staring straight at her. He quickly glanced away, looking for whoever was in charge at the moment. An older gentleman was looking his way, brows furrowed. Tom decided to ask him.

"Hallo, I'm looking for a Stuart or Steve, something like that?" Tom had to shout to be heard.

"Oh, are you the new bodyguard?" the man loudly asked him, shaking his hand.

"Something like that, yes."

"I'm Steve Harrison, I'm Roxie's manager. And sorry, but what was your name again?" He glanced away from Tom to check on Roxana for a second before returning his attention to him.

"Tom. Hardy."

"Tom. That's nice, it won't be hard to remember. Roxana is the girl in the middle there, obviously. Now, just to warn you, she's a bit of a fireball at first. She's mad at me for hiring a bodyguard. The last one was a disaster and she frightened him off, but you don't seem the type to let little things get to you... Tom?"

Tom realized he was watching Roxana again and had to peel his eyes away. "Yes, sorry. I mean, no. I'll be around as long as you pay me."

"That's a good deal, my friend," Steve chuckled.

The music came to an abrupt halt, followed by the director calling "cut!"

The dancers flocked off to the side of the studio, leaving Roxana to herself.

"The girl with the buzz cut was off by a beat, Gregory." Tom chewed his toothpick as he listened to Roxana speak for the first time. So far, she wasn't making a great first impression. Stuck up, indeed.

"I didn't notice," replied the director, "but if you think we should run it one more time, I'd be more than happy to. It's just, we've been at it for four hours already and I think we could all benefit from a little break. Maybe a lunch break? Sound good?"

Roxana stepped toward Gregory with her head down. Once in front of him, she raised her eyes and pouted. "One more time before a break wouldn't hurt anyone, would it? The dancers are embarrassing me and I have a reputation to uphold."

_Darling, the only one embarrassing around here right now is yourself with that attitude._

"Please, Roxie. Forty-five minutes. That's all I ask. Then we can go for another five hours at least, sweetheart." Gregory pleaded, his hands pressed palm-to-palm before him.

Roxana took a lip in her mouth and glanced at Steve and Tom. "Fine. I need to speak to my manager anyway about this being a closed set." She raised her voice so Tom was sure to hear her, "No outsiders allowed!"

Gregory quickly walked away before Roxana could change her mind and the dancers followed.

Roxana, hands on her hips, stood where she was, expecting the men to come to her. Steve complied, used to her antics. Tom followed behind.

"Roxie, this is Tom. He's going to be your companion during your tour here --" Poor Steve was cut off.

"Please, Steve. 'Companion'? I'm not an idiot." Roxana looked Tom up and down, lingering around his arms, which were folded across his chest. "I know you hired another bodyguard, but as I've already proved to you, it's completely unnecessary. Sorry to waste your time, sir, but you're not needed," she said with a forced smile, meeting Tom's eyes.

"Sorry, ma'am, but I work for him, not you." Tom nodded his head towards Steve. It was a half-truth. He would be working for her, but Steve would be the one paying him. He hoped the line would give Steve a bit more confidence against Roxana.

She smirked before rolling her eyes. "You won't be around much longer. I can promise you that. I'm a big girl and can take care of myself. Now, Steve, lunch?"

"Roxie, please be a bit more pleasant to this one. We are running out of options. I will not allow this tour to continue unless you agree to a bodyguard. I have to take all threats seriously! Now please, take _me_ seriously and just do as I ask!"

_Atta'boy, Steve._

Roxana crossed her arms, pushing her chest up higher. Tom couldn't help but glance at her cleavage. It was a nice amount of cleavage; he only wished it was a part of a nicer girl. 

"Steve, he's wasting his time and you're wasting your money. But whatever. If you want to pay an ex-con looking mall cop to follow me around, fine. But don't blame _me_ if it doesn't work out!"

And with that, she flipped her hair as she turned, nearly smacking Tom in the face. She stormed out of the studio, heels clacking loudly against the concrete floor.

"Roxie, dear, please wait for me," Steve called after her. "Tom, like I said, she's a little, well, abrasive at first but trust me--"

Hating to do so, Tom cut him off. "Mr. Harris, I don't think this is going to work. I need the job, but I don't need the insults."

"Oh, no, no, please. You're really our last option right now. Mr. Hardy, I beg of you, give her a chance. I will double the money. Please, I'm desperate."

Tom sunk his hands into his pockets and sighed. Steve surely did sound desperate. But was it worth the money to follow around a spoiled American brat? He moved his toothpick side to side with his tongue as he thought. Six months behind rent already meant yes. Yes, it could be worth it. 

"Alright. I'll give it a shot. Double?" Tom raised his brow, hoping he heard Steve correctly.

"Double." Steve smiled, relieved, and they shook hands to the agreement, Tom chuckling at Steve's delight.

 

•••

 

He'd barely said a word to her other than to say he didn't work for her, yet she hated him already. He was smug and completely full of himself, thinking he knew what he was getting himself into. Roxie scoffed at the thought of Tom as her makeup artist completed the finishing touches for today's photoshoot. 

Steve had sent Tom away after their first meeting so she could calm down and _rationally_ think about how important this was to him. She loved Steve like a dear uncle, but she honestly believed he was being ridiculous. One little threatening letter from an obsessed fan and he went a little protection crazy. The entire band already had a security team, why did she need a bodyguard specifically for herself? It was almost selfish. 

"Good to go," smiled her makeup artist, Cameron. "I think they're ready for you now."

Roxie smiled, stifling a yawn, and thanked her. Even after a week, jet lag still had ahold of her. She'd had one performance so far and her next was tonight. Her days were only about to get busier. She gently slapped herself across the face to be more alert. Stepping out from behind the curtain, she greeted her photographer, Paolo, for the shoot. He was French and only spoke and handful of English but he seemed sweet enough and talented. He had a translator with him when he struggled to get his ideas across to her.

She shivered in her skimpy clothing. The studio was kept to a certain degree so the talent of the day didn't sweat through their make up. Understandable, but her nipples felt like they just might pop right off her chest.

After the translator explained that Paolo wanted her on her knees, but spread out while grabbing her chest, she slightly blushed when she saw Steve and Tom going over her schedule for the next month several feet away. She hadn't expected to see him again so soon. He obviously needed the money if her obnoxious and childish attitude didn't send him running immediately. 

Roxie had learned long ago that only those who were worthy of her time stayed after she'd shown her claws and bared her teeth. She didn't have time for timid people without any drive. Either you had the balls to work with her or she sent you packing. 

She kept glancing in Tom's direction, curious. He wasn't bad looking. A bit intimidating, which she supposed was necessary given his profession. His voice was deep and, okay, his accent was a little charming. She kept scowling for the camera with the occasional flirty smile, wondering about Tom the entire time. 

Steve walked into her line of sight to get her attention. "Tom's here. Play nice. I'll hear about it later, I'm sure."

"You're not staying?" She stood with a hand on her hip.

"I have way too much on my plate right now but I will see you before you go on tonight. I promise. Now please. Be. Nice."

Roxie feigned a sweet smile and waved Steve off, returning her attention to Paolo.

She reached behind her, grabbing her hair in her hands and holding it above her head, arching her back so her chest stood out.

"Yes! Yes, my girl, you are brilliant," encouraged Paolo with a heavy accent.

A few shots later and one of Paolo's many assistants scurried up to her, unhooking the back of her tight blouse so it fell around her shoulders. Her eyes flew to where Tom stood, watching. He glanced away but she saw the slight blush forming across his cheeks.

_Excellent. Time to play._

Letting her blouse fall even more, barely covering her front, she gave a sexy pout to the camera.

"You seem a little uncomfortable, Tim," she teased, glancing at him. His eyes narrowed, meeting hers.

"Tom," he corrected her.

"Sometimes there's even less clothing. So if you're uncomfortable, I dunno, maybe this isn't the job for you."

"I've worked for porn stars before, darling," he fired back.

Her jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

A slow smirk crawled across his lips. "You don't make me uncomfortable, ma'am."

Annoyed, Roxie shrugged back into the blouse completely, the assistant helping her fasten the back. 

"Enough with the _ma'am._ My friends call me Roxie. But you may call me Roxana. Okay, Tim?"

Tom chewed that damn toothpick of his and shook his head, looking away, done with their conversation. Roxie smiled to herself, proud to be getting under his skin already.

_Piece of cake, this one._


	2. Chapter 2

He wasn't expecting a full house since he had never heard of Roxana before yesterday. But tonight, her show was sold out. The venue was one of the smaller ones of London and he was surprised to learn it had reached full capacity two hours before the show. 

He'd done a little research on the Internet when he got back to his flat last night and discovered that she's actually very well known across the pond. Some fan pages even went as far as to call her the next big thing to happen to the music industry.

_Please. Anyone can strut their goods across a stage and they're considered the next big thing?_

He'd listened to a few tracks on YouTube. Her music wasn't really to his liking but he had to admit that she wasn't too bad. Her videos caused him to shift in his seat. 

_Someone buy this poor girl some real clothing..._

Tom had browsed through the comments instead of watching her provocative dance, noticing the comments were a bit repetitive. People seemed to either love her or hate her.

**Roxana is Queen!**

**Ugh, I wish I could be her! Why can't I be her???**

Some comments weren't too nice. Since he was logged in to his account, he had down-voted the negative ones. She may be a bit of a bitch to him but who were these strangers to judge?

**This wannabe is such a disgusting slut.** Down-vote.

**Can someone just run this nasty bitch off the side of the road already? I'm so tired of her!** Down-vote.

He had watched a few of her more highly ranked videos before clicking on a more toned down and subdued hit. Though he wouldn't have really called it a hit. It had notably a significant less amount of views and likes compared to her racier tracks. But he'd found himself enjoying it. The lyrics and emotion behind them were sweet and almost depressing. The camera had followed her as she slowly walked down an empty Hollywood Boulevard late at night, hair flowing and arms wrapped around herself as if she were lonely and cold. 

He'd scrolled through the comments and saw many fans agreed with him.

**This is my favorite. So underrated.**

**When my fiancé and I broke up four months ago, this was my theme song! It's so heart-wrenching but it's great to have the words to how I'm feeling.**

**I'm a little surprised she wrote this herself. It's definitely different from her other songs.**

As soon as the video ended, before he had time to contemplate what he just saw and heard, and even read, the playlist started the next video which, again, was a more racy track. He'd had enough. He'd turned his laptop off after the fifth video, all too aware of the way his body was reacting to her suggestive lyrics and moves.

Backstage, the hustle and bustle of Roxana's stage crew kept him on his toes. Tom kept out of the way as best as he could, making sure Roxana was no further than ten feet away from him at all times. Until showtime. Then he'd have to guard her from the orchestra pit of the arena.

"Tim, stop," Roxie held up a hand as he followed her into a back room. He'd nearly been attached to her hip throughout makeup and hair.

"Tom," he reminded her, yet again. She knew full well what his name was. But he wasn't about to let her get away with it.

"I have to get dressed and I don't think anything dangerous is bound to happen behind this flimsy little curtain."

Tom flushed a bit. He realized he was being a bit clingier than he was meant to be. He cleared his throat and nodded, turning his back to her as her wardrobe crew shuffled around with her behind the curtain. 

The door of the room burst open and Tom stood tall, raising his chin to any threats. "Rox! Ninety seconds!" The man in a black polo shirt and black jeans covered the small microphone piece of his headset as he called out to Roxana. Steve stepped in after him and greeted Tom with a smile and a wave.

"Got it!" She called back, brushing the curtain aside and stepping out. Tom turned to view his client and felt his heart pound a little faster. 

She wore a black sequined, strapless leotard with a broad shoulder piece consisting of stark raven feathers. Matching high heeled boots came up to her thighs and combined with the intense streaks of eyeliner and faux-hawk teased hair held in place with a million hair pins, she looked like sin on heels.

"Mr. Hardy," Steve grinned, stepping up next to him. "How are we getting along?"

Tom gave a little shrug.

"Where's my mic? John!" Roxie looked around with her hand held out until a sparkly pink microphone was placed into her palm, he assumed by John. "Showtime," she winked to no one in particular. She gave Steve a curt kiss on the cheek, completely ignoring Tom. 

"Break a leg, sweetie," Steve urged. "I'll see you afterwards."

_In those heels, she just might._

The band had already gone on, playing with a local indie band before the headliner. Tom walked out ahead of Roxie, leading her to the steps going up the back of the stage. 

"I'll be in the orchestra pit in front. If you feel threatened or concerned for your safety, use this signal and I will safely remove you from the stage." Tom yanked on his earlobe for the signal.

"Sure." He couldn't tell if Roxie had even paid attention but if she didn't care, then maybe he shouldn't either. After all, this wasn't the States. All her crazed fans were thousands of miles away.

He left her with the stage manager and made his away around to the orchestra pit with the extra security the venue provided. He pulled the color coded schedule of the concert out from his pocket and went over it quickly, making note of each costume change so he knew when to return backstage for Roxie. 

_Bloody hell, seven wardrobe changes?_

It was going to be a busy night. At least he was being paid well.

He noticed the song he had particularly enjoyed last night wasn't included on the set list. He'd been curious to see her perform it live.

With his back to the stage, he did a once over of the crowd. Mostly young females and the occasional poor sap being forced to accompany their girl.

_Wait til you wankers get an eyeful of Roxie. You won't look so bored then._

The house lights went down and colorful spotlights covered only the stage. Flashes of cellphone cameras going off made it look like fireflies had swarmed the premises. The crowd grew to a loud roar as the band began to play a song he recognized from last night.

Tom turned to the stage as Roxie was carried in on the shoulders of two half naked and well oiled-up men. Remaining professional, Tom held back from the desire to roll his eyes. He reached back, giving his .380 tucked in it's holster a gentle pat, reassured. He had cleaned it the night before, same as every night.

Roxana's first number was a bit of a headache to him. So much going on. Lights, glitter, feathers. He made a mental note to bring ear plugs for next time to drown out the crowd a bit. 

Looking back at the crowd, he was surprised to see so many singing along with Roxie. Even a few of the men were.

There was never a lull. Roxana pounded out hit after hit. And not once during the entire concert, not even during wardrobe changes, did Roxie acknowledge Tom. No eye contact and not a single word when he was in her presence. He wasn't sure how he felt about it, but better than needing him, and a hell of a lot better than spewing her usual insults.

He did his best to keep out of the way so her team could get her promptly back on stage. By the end of the night, everyone easily moved around him as if he'd always been there. It would be so easy to feel comfortable, at ease, and let down his guard. But he wouldn't let that happen again. 

 

•••

 

Roxie was exhausted but running on pure adrenaline. The best part of performing live was the feeling afterwards; the high mixed with exhaustion. She almost felt drugged, she was so happy. 

As they had the first time, the band members, tour dancers and the rest of the crew gathered around her and they all congratulated each other on another successful show. Roxie's cheeks hurt from smiling ear to ear. She couldn't help but laugh with happiness. One of the crew members, Heather, handed her a towel and she took it, dabbing the sweat off her brow, then wrapped it around her neck. 

She slipped out of the rowdy little group and headed toward her dressing room to change. Tom stood outside the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Roxie did a double take. She had managed to forget all about him during the show. He had kept his distance a little better, staying out of her hair and she had appreciated it.

"Tim," she mockingly tipped an imaginary hat.

"Tom."

She smirked as she passed him, closing the door behind her. Finally, sweet freedom. She sunk down into the love seat and concentrated on breathing, shutting everything out for just five minutes. Her last costume was easy enough to change out of on her own, which was her idea so she could take some time alone to decompress from each performance.

Once the five minutes were up, she kicked off her tan stilettos and promptly stood, beginning to disrobe. The white feather tutu was merely an elastic band around her waste and it easily slipped off. Tossing one arm up so she could easily grasp the zipper, she began to unzip the side of the skin-tight leopard print leotard. It effortlessly went down two inches until it snagged.

Roxie groaned, trying to see down her side to figure out why the zipper suddenly refused to budge. She tugged harder, still failing. Frustrated, she opened the door to the dressing room to call out to Heather for help.

Tom glanced her way, pushing himself off the wall.

"I need Heather," Roxie simply said.

"Everyone went to the Kraft bar," Tom answered as he folded his arms. That gross toothpick was back in his mouth.

"Well go get her." Roxie furrowed her brow, as if it was the only obvious thing for him to do next.

Tom shook his head. "Afraid I can't. Sorry."

Roxie sighed, even more frustrated. "I'm stuck. I need someone from the wardrobe team to unzip me without ruining the top."

Tom switched the toothpick to the other side of his mouth and scratched the back of his head, eyeing her side. "I'll try," he suggested.

Roxie scoffed. "Fine." She led him into the room and held her arm up over her head.

Tom knelt in front of her and Roxie stared at the back of his head through the mirror in front of her. Her eyes trailed down his back, observing how nicely his shirt fit his build. She suddenly giggled when his fingers grasped the zipper, taking her by surprise.

"Sorry," he mumbled. He firmly grasped her hip, holding the material down in place to better examine the stuck zipper.

Roxie swallowed hard when the skin of his rough fingers grazed her bare side at the opening, tugging the zipper until it finally came loose. Slowly, he dragged it down until it reached the end, stopping at the curvature of her hip.

"And there you have it," Tom gave her a small grin as he stood. Without her heels, he was several inches taller, making her suddenly feel small. His smile dropped and his eyes focused on her face, possibly wondering what she was thinking.

Roxie quickly looked over his face. The slight scar on his right eyebrow stood out and she wanted to ask how he had gotten it but instead, cleared her throat and thanked him.

She took a step back, uncomfortable. "You can leave now."

Tom tipped an imaginary hat her way and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

_Smartass._


	3. Chapter 3

The entire tour crew was booked at a hotel just outside the airport so they could all leave early the next morning for Amsterdam. It was nearing two in the morning and Roxie was completely restless. Tossing and turning was doing her no good. She sat up and rolled her head around, relieving the tension in her neck. She desperately needed to rest but first maybe a little walk would help tire her out. And if that failed, she could always sleep on the plane.

She slipped on a pair of shorts and an old baggy hoodie that she'd had forever, pulling the hood up over her hair. Tom was in the room across from her, so she tip-toed to the peephole of her door, making sure he wasn't out in the hall just waiting for her to leave her room. The coast appeared clear. Slowly, she pulled back the bar guard, unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open, sticking her head out into the hall. She eased the door closed to prevent the loud click of the latch. The only sounds she could hear were the humming of the ice machine and the flip-flopping of her sandals as she stealthily made her way to the elevator. 

Out in the brisk London air, she was thankful for the warmth of her hoodie. She debated on where to go and turned right. A little walk around the block should do the trick. She wrapped her arms around herself and walked at a leisurely pace.

London was gorgeous. She was sad to leave so soon but anxious to see the rest of Europe during her tour. She'd never been out of the States before. She'd never even seen the ocean before flying over the Atlantic. She thought once she had the money to do whatever she wanted, she'd be able to do just that. But the more money she made, the less freedom she had. She was based in Nashville and visited California a handful of times but not once did she get the opportunity to visit the beach. Oh, she'd been to beaches before, but she knew a lake beach could not possibly compare to the sands next to the ebb and flow of ocean waves.

She thought about the long emotional journey she'd gone through to finally get to where she was in her career. It wasn't easy. Show business never was. She had learned that the hard way at the ripe age of seventeen. It took three years to be taken under the wing of a new recording company looking for fresh talent. She was elated that her dreams were actually coming true.

Alas, being a Christian artist was not what she was cut out for. Or perhaps her Christianity was not cut out for the music industry. Her publicist pressed her into going more mainstream. Countless more years of struggling to make a name for herself, and she had finally, but reluctantly, agreed. She was told to change her image. Thinner waistline, bigger breasts, longer wavier hair. After all, sex sells. God does not. 

Not only did she lose her faith in God during the process, but she lost her own parents as well. Her pastor father had disowned her after her now famous but promiscuous Rolling Stone cover and her mother, ever the doting wife, followed his lead. Did she regret it? Maybe a little. If only her mom could see her now. See how happy she was. Or how happy she thought she was. 

No, maybe she didn't regret it. That cover really helped put her name out there. Everyone suddenly wanted to know who Roxana was. Her songs were suddenly requested on the radio and she was constantly at multiple sets making videos to them. It was a whirlwind but she reminded herself this is what she wanted.

A strong breeze sent a shiver down her spine. She continued to walk, but a bit faster to keep warm. She slowed when she neared a worn out looking gentleman sitting against a shop on the sidewalk. His head was down and he appeared to be asleep. At least she hoped he was. Yes, she could see he was shivering. Not dead. She glanced around for anyone else, but it was just the two of them alone this late at night. She knew she should keep walking. Just keep going; act natural. But passing up the opportunity to help someone in need was not natural to her at all.

She stepped a little closer to him and crouched down. His eyes were closed and his face looked weathered, but kind. Roxie gently reached to touch his shoulder and as soon as she made contact, he staggered back, startled. Roxie yelped and stood straight up.

"Sorry! So sorry! I didn't mean to frighten you! It's just that you look kind of cold. I don't have any money on me, but can I offer you my sweatshirt?" She immediately began to pull it off over her head.

The man shook his head, eyes wide. "No, love. It's quite alright."

"I insist, please." She held it out to him.

He stared at her offering for a moment before his eyes smiled with gratitude in such a way that a smile from the mouth couldn't properly express. He reached forward, taking the hoodie.

"I can't thank you enough, my sweet angel." He stood, slowly, to put it on. It fit him perfectly, like she knew it would. It had belonged to her dad, after all, and both men were about the same size. "But aren't you going to be cold? What are you doing out at this time of night alone anyway?"

"Don't worry about me. I'll be inside shortly," she smiled. 

He nodded and thanked her again before returning to his spot on the sidewalk, this time a little warmer. 

She left him and didn't shiver the entire way back to the hotel. The look on his face had warmed her through and through. 

Back in the hallway of the floor her room was on, she fished her keycard from her back pocket. She slipped it into the slot of her door and cried out when a strong hand yanked her by the arm, turning her around.

"Don't hurt me!" She pleaded, raising her free arm in defense. It was Tom. And he was pissed. "God! You scared the shit out of me!"

"Where were you?!" He released her from his clutch and stepped back. She hadn't even heard his door open at all. 

"I just went for a walk! I couldn't sleep. Keep your voice down, okay?"

"Do you have any bloody idea... Do you... Fuck." Tom's cheeks were red with anger. He looked dangerous.

"Calm down. I'm fine. Everything is fine." Roxie held her hands up in reassurance. 

"Is this something you do often, Miss Howell?" 

_Oh, so formal._

"Never. First time," she lied.

"And last," he breathed, his voice dark.

 

•••

 

The phone rang and Tom jolted straight up, remembering where he was. He felt the pressure of a headache forming from a lack of sleep.

"Hallo, yes," he answered quickly before another ring could progress the pounding in his head.

"Good morning, Mr. Hardy. You requested a wake up call," a pleasant female voice on the line confirmed.

"Yes, thank you." He placed the receiver back in it's cradle and fell back on the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

He didn't get much sleep at all. He hardly ever did when he was responsible for someone. Several times throughout the night, he'd look through the peephole of his door out directly to Roxie's door. He didn't know what he expected. But the tenth time he'd checked, he had caught her sneaking back into her room.

Immediately his blood had boiled. He'd pulled his door open, blocking it with the door bar guard so he wouldn't be locked out and grabbed her arm. He hadn't meant to yank her back as hard as he did. 

He reminded himself to apologize to her this morning if he had hurt her at all.

Groaning at the light struggling to burst through the thick curtains, he sat up and stretched on his way to the bathroom. 

A hot shower helped Tom feel a bit more human. He could still use a few extra hours of sleep, but he supposed he could take care of that on the plane.

_As long as Roxie stays in her seat._

Everyone had gathered in the hotel lobby, buzzing with excitement. A lot of people Roxie had hired to be a part of her crew were first-timers, he had learned. So the entire tour was a brand new experience for most of them.

Tom caught Roxie's eye as he joined everyone. He didn't even care that she didn't wait for him like he had asked. Housekeeping was already cleaning her room when he had stepped out into the hall. Roxie looked away quickly, most likely embarrassed about their encounter the night before.

Adjusting the bag on his back, Tom sighed and made his way to her. He needed to apologize.

"Roxana?" She had her back to him but held up a finger for him to wait. Tom rolled his eyes. 

Roxie finished her conversation about bad dye jobs with one of her dancers and then turned to face Tom, laughing. The joy on her face dropped when they came eye-to-eye. "Yes, Tim?"

His jaw clenched. "Can I speak with you? Privately, please?" He stepped away, encouraging her to follow. She hesitated at first which annoyed him even more.

"Look," he started when she stepped next to him. "If I hurt your arm at all last night, I'm terribly sorry. Sometimes I don't know my own strength. I would never do anything to deliberately hurt you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She stared back at him, blankly. "Now can we please go? I can't afford to miss the flight."

The flight wasn't for another three hours, Tom knew. But he shrugged her off. 

Roxana insisted on walking the three miles to the airport instead of taking the transportation provided. He overheard her explaining it was the only exercise she'd be able to get in before the show tonight. And if Roxie was walking, well, then so was he. 

He double checked that his bags were on the shuttle bus before taking off after Roxie, keeping back several feet. She walked briskly, so he knew she really was trying to get a little exercise. He actually enjoyed walking behind her with the charcoal grey yoga pants she had on.

He groaned when a few moments later she slipped into a tiny bakery, appropriate named Tiny Baker. He followed her in and sat at a table by the door while she ordered a few currant buns and a hot tea to go. After paying, she turned, almost surprised to see him sitting there.

"You're following me?" She whispered loudly as she walked past him and out the door. He quickly caught up to her.

"It is my job, Roxana."

"Well, stay back, okay? I do better on my own. If I have any kind of security with me, it makes me stand out, attracting fans."

He considered and agreed she was right. They walked about a mile until she stopped again. This time, he noticed, she greeted a man seated on the sidewalk. She handed him the bag of currant buns and the styrofoam cup of tea. Tom looked at his wristwatch, wishing she'd get a move on. He closed the distance between them so he could listen in.

"Bless you, you sweet child. You are my very own guardian angel, you are!" The man, a bit ramshackled looking, rose from the ground and embraced Roxana with a hug. Tom quickly moved toward Roxie and put a hand on the man's shoulder, pushing him off lightly. He wore jeans with holes in the knees and a navy blue hooded sweatshirt that read "Got God?"

"Tom!" She glared at him, the tips of her ears burning red. "I'm so sorry," she turned back to the older man. "Enjoy your food and take care of yourself, please. Maybe share one of the buns with a friend?"

Roxie shot Tom a look before continuing toward the airport. She walked with more purpose this time, obviously peeved.

He nearly stopped in his tracks realizing she called him "Tom" for the first time.


	4. Chapter 4

The flight proved to be easy-going and uneventful, much to Tom's delight.  It was strange how travel, even if one did sleep during, could make one extremely tired.  His seat had been across the aisle of Roxana's so he didn't have to worry about keeping her in sight.  She had generally stared out the window or catnapped with the earbuds of her iPad in her ears.

Their luggage had arrived to their rooms before they had.  One less thing to worry about.  Tom dropped his backpack to the foot of the bed and picked through the welcome basket everyone on the tour had waiting for them in their rooms.  Tom had watched Roxie go through hers like a little kid while he checked out her room for anything suspicious.  Roxie, of course, had rolled her eyes at him once he was finished.  He'd stood next to her with his arms crossed, grazing on a toothpick as she pulled out a package of fresh stroopwafles.  

"Take these with you."  She'd nearly smashed the clear packaging against him, muttering something about carbs.  "And wear a suit and tie tonight.  No more jeans and t-shirts.  If I'm gonna be seen with you, you need to look like you belong."

Tom had pursed his lips and chewed the toothpick harder.  He'd given Roxie a nod and proceeded to drop the Dutch treats into the trash bin before leaving her room.  He was glad to see his own basket contained a package of it's own.  He opened it and pulled out one of the large wafer sandwiches, slowly biting into it, the syrupy caramel deliciously sticky.  Poor Roxana was missing out.

_Bollocks, I shouldn't have tossed hers out._

~

The Paradiso, with it's large stained windows, gave off a sense of grandeur.  Tom could definitely tell it used to be a church.  He sat back and relaxed after doing a once over of the venue with the band's security, watching as Roxana and her dancers went over the set list and specific dance moves for the smaller stage they'd be performing on tonight.  

A line was already forming outside with fans, generating a buzz of excitement amongst the dancers and crew.  It didn't appear to faze Roxie in the slightest.  Tom didn't know if that was because she was focusing on rehearsal or because she was used to being fawned over.

"Stop, stop, stop," Roxie halted the band and began fussing with the dancers.  "It's important that we get this part exactly right.  Otherwise there's no point in doing this one at all.  Megan!"  She waved a dancer closer and together the two of them practiced a step until they appeared to move as one.

"There we go," Roxie cheered, high-fiving Megan.  "Alright, let's take it from the top!"  

Tom found himself tapping his fingers to the beat against the back of the chair in front of him.  He watched how fluidly yet animatedly Roxie moved across the stage.  She looked right at him and smirked, seeing his eyes on her.  She sang her current single, never missing a note.

"Big boy, you think I don't see,  
The way your eyes keep following me.  
Come on now, don't you dare be shy,  
If you've something to say, that you think I might like,  
Make your words match your eyes.  
But big boy, please tell me no lies."

Tom sat back and cleared his throat.  She stared in his direction, shaking her hips before laughing and moving to the other side of the stage.

_Tease._

After rehearsal, Tom and Roxie ate in her dressing room.  Naturally, she whined that she wanted to be alone but unless she were either using the restroom or changing, he refused.

"You've already scouted the dressing room.  No bombs.  I'm fine," she fussed as she sat in her makeup chair.  She propped her plate of vegetables and smoked sausage on her knees, stabbing a piece of broccoli with her plastic fork with unnecessary force.

"Maybe someone poisoned your dinner," Tom suggested, settling onto the couch behind her.  He smiled as he saw her stop her fork in midair, almost to her lips.  "You never know, love."

She shoved the veggie into her mouth regardless and chewed, swallowing before turning to face him.  "So what's your story, Tim?  How'd I get so lucky to get you of all bodyguards?"

"We're back to Tim now?  Have I annoyed you?"  He picked up his sausage with his fingers and took a bite, considering carefully what to say next. He wasn't exactly ready to share his life story. Not that she'd be interested, truly.

Roxie placed her plate on the vanity table and crossed her legs, one high heel hanging on just her toes.  She wiggled them, making her shoe sway back and forth.  "Well?"

"What can I say?  It's just your luck I happened to be available."

Actually, he was the lucky one.  He needed this job.  After his last client, he'd royally screwed up.  Tom stared at the food on his plate, thinking about Claire.  She was the daughter of a diplomat and constantly found herself in the tabloids, getting into all sorts of trouble.  He'd always chalked it up to her being a rebellious teenager.  He knew all about that phase, having been one himself, constantly in and out of rehab until he was finally shuffled off to the British Army.

Claire, however, had a boyfriend, who happened to be the son of another diplomat.  Jefferson and Claire were attached at the hip, so Tom came to know him just as well as he knew Claire.  

He'd cared for Claire.  She became a bit like a little sister to him.  Claire developed a habit of popping pills.  Vitamins, she'd called them when he snatched them from her, furious.

"Tommy, chill out.  They're good for me.  Try one with me.  You could use it, Lord knows."  

He'd declined.  Over and over he'd declined until temptation got the better of him.  One couldn't hurt.

Over the course of two years he began to let his guard down more and more, becoming their friend and no longer just Claire's bodyguard.  Jefferson brought around friends that Tom knew they shouldn't be associating with.  They reminded him of his younger self, and he knew they were bad news. But they made Claire happy.

Before he knew it, Tom helped himself to the crack cocaine Jefferson's friends always brought around and Claire had ended up overdosing on her so-called vitamins, ending her life on his watch.

Roxie waved her fork around.  "Earth to Tim," she smirked.  "Did Steve tell you why he believes I need a bodyguard?"

"To an extent."  He looked down at his plate.  He wasn't sure exactly how much she knew of what Steve had told him.

"And?"  She crossed her arms, her cleavage popping out more to say hello.

"And, well, seems you've gained yourself a bit of a rude stalker."

"Carl is harmless.  He's been a fan since day one."  She uncrossed her legs and grabbed her plate again.

"No, not Carl.  I heard about him, too, though.  Sending you nail clippings, eh?  Kinky, innit?"

"Harmless."  She speared a baby carrot and took a bite.  

Tom watched her jaw and neck as she chewed.  "What other body parts have you been sent?" He teased her, taking a bite of his own carrots.

"Tim.  I'm eating right now.  Can we discuss something else, please?  Or better yet, sit in silence?  I feel a headache coming on."  She placed her plate down before hopping out of her chair, heels loudly landing on the tiled floor.  She bent over and dug through a bag next to the couch for a bottle of aspirin, which he'd made sure were aspirin after doing an inventory of her personal bag, and Tom forced himself to look away from the low cut view of her gorgeous chest.

"Sure thing, Roxana."  He smoothed down his tie and finished his dinner.

 

•••

 

Teasing Tom didn't seem to get anywhere, but Roxie had to admit that it was fun to watch him squirm.  He led her to the back of the stage just as he'd done last performance and reminded her of the signal if she felt threatened.

"Thanks big boy," she said casually as she turned her attention to the stage manager for her cue.  

She felt Tom's eyes linger on her, surprised by the little nickname, just as she had expected.  Yes, he was fun to tease, that was for sure.  From her peripheral, she saw him smirk before walking away.

If being a bitch and tossing insults his way wasn't going to work as easily as she had hoped, then maybe she could get him to make a move on her and get him fired.  It shouldn't be hard to do.  She'd noticed every time his eyes would linger just a bit too long around her breasts and butt.  But he wasn't perverted about it.  And she felt flattered each time, much to her dismay.

The house lights dimmed and she took her place center stage.  The roar of the crowd was deafening already, so she adjusted her earpiece to be sure she'd be able to hear the band and herself better.  Her dancers surrounded her and as the lights rose and the dancers parted to reveal the star everyone had been waiting for, Roxie's eyes locked with Tom's from the front of the audience.  His arms were crossed and he chewed that forsaken toothpick of his.  But damn, he did look good in a suit and tie.  She'd give him that much.

The song began and Roxie tore her eyes away from him, stepping towards the crowd beginning the first dance routine.  She loved starting with one of her sexier songs.  Generally she directed her subtle winks and blown kisses to no one in particular.  This time however, she decided to mess with Tom and look back at him. With a pop of her hip and a dip towards the floor, she licked her lips as she dragged a finger from her navel to her mouth.  She smiled as he couldn't help but watch.  Roxie made sure she kept her eyes on him the entire song and then for most of the show.

Her adrenaline was high once again after the rush of the encore performance her fans had chanted for.  A towel was handed to her and she wiped sweat from her brow and the back of her neck.  Tom followed her back to the dressing room, pausing outside the door to wait.

"Good boy," she winked as she began to close the door.  Instead of latching it closed, it stood ajar a few inches.

Just as she'd hoped, Tom stood against the wall opposite the door.  She watched as he pulled his toothpick out and propped it into his mouth.  She could see him perfectly in the reflection of the vanity mirror.  Knowing he'd glance up eventually, she turned her back to the mirror and began to undress.

She took her time so Tom wouldn't completely miss it.  She gathered her hair and piled it up atop her head, pinning it in place before dragging her side zipper down.  Her heart began to race a little, knowing he could be watching.  Slipping out of her skirt, she began to peel off her leotard, letting it drop to the floor until she stood only in her heels.  Roxie pulled her hairpins out, letting her tresses fall down the length of her bare back.

As she peered over her shoulder to the mirror, she was miffed to find his reflection no longer there.

"What the?"  

_Fine.  Guess you're gay or something._

She finished up, picking up her pace this time, before opening the door back up.  Tossing her bag over her shoulder, she stepped into the hall.  Tom had moved next to the door so he couldn't see her undress.  She stood in front of him for a second, waiting for him to make eye contact.  He finally lifted his eyes to hers, chewing his damn toothpick.

"That's a disgusting habit," she glared at his mouth.

Tom shrugged.  "I like something between my lips.  Keeps me calm."

Though she was annoyed, his reply had hit her through the core.  She swallowed hard and stalked off, Tom following not too far behind.


	5. Chapter 5

The blackout curtains of her hotel room were practically useless.  Amsterdam demanded to be explored and Roxana sure as hell wasn't going to miss her opportunity. She peered out the peephole of her door, looking for Tom, who, as usual, had the room across from hers.  She stared straight ahead to the peephole of his own door, looking for any signs of movement on the other side.  Impossible to tell, she decided to risk it.  

Cracking the door open, she peeked down the hall.  Vacant.  She found she was holding her breath as she shuffled quietly down the hallway, further away from Tom.  She needed to be sure to be extra quiet returning tonight.  Last time when he caught her, she swore she lost several years of her life.  He had scared the crap out of her.  

Stepping out into the Amsterdam air, Roxie took in a deep breath.  Pot.  Everything smells like pot.  She giggled quietly as she briskly walked down the sidewalks and along the canal across from the hotel.  It was so different from any place in the States.  She skirted her finger along the railing of the canal, smiling at the canoodling couples in some of the boats docked at the sides, lit by the street lamps and starlight alone.

Tonight, she wore a beanie, shoving most of her hair into it.  Her faux leather leggings, baggy boyfriend t-shirt, and high tops completed the casual look she was going for.  She hardly wore any makeup which she figured was disguise enough.  Tonight, she was just Roxie.  She lazily browsed through the windows of the closed shops, wishing it could somehow be daylight and she could shop for fun.  She couldn't remember the last time she went on a shopping spree, yet alone, by herself.  Everything was bought for her now which was fun at first.  She never thought she'd be someone who took shopping for granted.

Making her way down the sidewalk further, the quietness of the night began to vanish.  Glancing up at the sign, she realized she was coming upon a bar which seemed to be pretty popular considering the steady flow of people entering and exiting.  

Roxie kept her head down as she walked around a group of men chattering and laughing.  One backed up, bumping into her slightly.  Surprised, she glanced up as a guy roughly her age laughed and muttered something in Dutch.

Assuming he had said "sorry" she shook her head, dismissing his unnecessary apology.  "It's fine," she smiled.

"American!" He shouted with drunk glee.  His friends cheered and some of them exchanged high fives.

Roxie giggled and continued walking around them. 

"No, wait!  Where are you off to?  Come, hang with us, sweetheart," he rushed up to her side, placing a gentle arm around her shoulders. "My name is Daan."

"Oh," Roxie laughed, a bit uncomfortable.  "Sorry, I'm meeting someone.  Thank you though. Nice to meet you, Daan."  She shrugged his arm off and gave him and his friends a soft wave goodbye.

She turned away from them once she saw that look in one of their eyes.  That look of recognition.

"Hey!" One of them called after her.

Roxie ignored him and kept walking.

"You're Roxana, aren't you?"  Three of them rushed up to her, one of them blocking her path.

"Erm, heh.  No, sorry.  I do get that a lot though."  Roxie shared a smile as tried to push past them but they held their ground.

"Nah, doll.  You are Roxana.  Take your hat off!"

Her beanie was snatched before she could even reach up.  Someone else had come up behind her and pulled it off.  Her hair fell down around her shoulders; her signature wavy locks.

"Holy shit!" The one blocking her way called back to his initial group.  "It's Roxana!"

Roxie brought a finger to her lips, shushing them as best as she could.  "No, no, please!  I'm just trying to take a walk."  She roughly pushed past them and began to walk a bit faster.

She could hear them behind her, jeering and taunting, mostly in Dutch. She didn't know much Dutch but she knew "bitch" in any language.  She turned the corner and still they followed.  Looking back, she caught one of them grabbing his crotch and shaking it towards her.

_Lovely._

Roxie considered confronting them.  Maybe if she just gave them some autographs and took a few photos with them they'd leave her alone.  But that obscene gesture didn't exactly give off a friendly vibe.

She quickly cut across the street, avoiding a few bicyclists.  Still, they followed.  It almost felt like a parade. Were there more now?  She counted as she glanced back again.

_Seven.  I can outrun seven._

Without any warning, she took off, sprinting past other shops and turning corner after corner, trying to lose them.  She kept a good solid pace, but they were never far behind.  In her attempt to lose them, she turned another corner into an alley, which was definitely not part of the plan, but a stitch had already begun to pierce her side.

_Cardio.  Must do more cardio._

She snaked herself through dumpsters and piles of trash and yet they followed.  Roxie's heart beat harder than ever before.  She gasped in disbelief as she came to a dead end.

"Fuck," she muttered, out of breath.  Spinning around, she held up her hands in surrender.  "Please, I don't have any cash on me."

"Doll," laughed the one who had first approached her, Daan, "it's not your money we're interested in."  His raised his eyebrows as his eyes trailed down her body.  He let out a long whistle.  

His friends caught up with him and she was trapped now for sure.  

"A photo?  Autograph?"

He shook his head, smirking.  She stepped back as he stepped forward.  "No, thanks.  I am hungry though.  Got a snack for me?" Daan licked his lips suggestively.

Roxie grimaced and kept backing up until her backside met with a wall.  She swallowed hard, her eyes focused on the man in front of her.  She closed her fists tightly and brought them before her.  He threw his head back and laughed.

"You're gonna hit me?  I'm just a fan, Roxana.  All you need to do is just spend some time with me.  Come on, baby doll," he closed the distance between them, catching her wrists in his hands, bringing her arms up above her.  His friends cheered him on, ignoring her cries.

She spit in his face but he just laughed even harder, pressing his rather muscular body up against hers.  She could feel his hard on through his slacks and she felt sick.  As she attempted to bring up her knee to hit him where it counts, a gunshot rang out.  Roxie screamed and closed her eyes.

Her arms were suddenly freed and her eyes flew open.  The rowdy group quickly dispersed except for her assailant and a few of his buddies.  The scarce lighting of the back building allowed Roxie to witness her bodyguard storming down the alley, elbowing past the exiting group towards her.  Tom grabbed her assailant by the collar with one hand and threw him up against the wall next to Roxie, making sure to bang his head against the hard brick.  His gun was out and Roxie backed away from the two of them.

Tom shot her a quick look.  "Are you alright?"

Roxie, breathing heavily, nodded.  It was all she could do.  She wrapped her arms around herself and watched.

Tom turned his attention back to Daan.  "What exactly was your plan, mate?  Were you going to harm Miss Howell?"  His voice was rough and intimidating.

Daan shook his head, furiously.  "Not at all!  I was just teasing her!  She liked it!"

Tom slipped his gun back into it's holster before grabbing Daan with both hands.  He flipped him around and shoved him towards Roxie.  "Does she look like she liked it?!"

Roxie's face was wet with tears and she couldn't stop her lips from quivering.  She held herself tighter and looked away.

"Come on, man, he wasn't gonna hurt her," one of his buddies chimed in.  "Back off, friend."

Tom scoffed and shoved Roxie's assailant back into the brick wall before slugging him once in the stomach.  Daan keeled over immediately, retching.  Tom pat Daan on the back.  "Oh, you liked it, don't worry."

He turned to Roxie with narrowed eyes. "Go," he growled at her.  

Roxie turned and quickly hustled past Daan's friends.  They waited for Tom to step away before rushing to his side to help.  Tom caught up to Roxie and grabbed her by the elbow, directing her out of the alley once they were through the line of dumpsters.

 

•••

 

They walked together in an angry silence, Tom still gripping Roxie's elbow tightly.  She kept tripping trying to keep up with his pace, but he firmly held her up.  Once they reached the hotel, Roxie attempted to apologize.

"Don't," Tom hissed as he roughly dropped her arm, forcing her to walk in front of him down their hallway.

They reached her room and Roxie had to wipe away tears to see her keycard clearly.  She slipped it into the lock and pushed the door open.  Tom followed immediately and blew up.

"What the actual fuck were you thinking?!  Are you going to stop leaving your room alone now?  Do you not understand what could have happened to you if I hadn't followed?"  He stumbled over his words, his anger at an all time high.  His knuckles were white from clenching his fists to his sides.

Roxie wiped her tears away again, defiantly, standing up taller.  "This is the first time that's ever happened, okay?!"

"No, it's not okay, Roxana!"

"That's not what I meant!  I just meant it's not going to happen again!  I'll do better and keep to myself--"

"Oh no, no, Miss Howell," Tom scoffed, closing the distance between them to show he meant business.  "This. Is. Not happening again.  I will personally hire extra security to watch you when I can't if that's what it takes.  But this is NOT happening again.  Not on MY watch, Miss Howell!"

"Enough with the 'Miss Howell'!  God, you sound like my father!  Maybe if I had a little bit of extra freedom I wouldn't NEED to sneak out!  You think extra security is going to stop me?  You're a fucking idiot if that's what you think!"

Tom could feel the heat escaping his face.  The last thing he needed right now were insults from Roxana after he quite possibly just saved her life.  She spewed insult after insult and he clenched his fists even tighter in anger.  Finally, Roxie stopped to take a breath, her bottom lip quivering with her own anger.  Tom couldn't help but stare at her mouth.  She had tear tracks down her cheeks and her lips were puffy and full from crying and all he wanted to do was just ---

He stormed toward her in two giant steps just as she opened her mouth again to continue her insults and stopped her words from escaping her lips by roughly pressing his own mouth to hers.  They fell back against a wall and Tom slipped a hand behind her neck, cradling the back of her head while cupping her cheek with the other.  He kissed her hard and good, intoxicated by the feel of her soft lips and the scent of her skin.  She whimpered beneath him, but relaxed, wrapping her arms around his back, grabbing handfuls of his shirt to hold him in place.

Tom pulled his mouth away before his tongue could pry her lips apart, resting his forehead against hers.  Together, they gasped quietly for air.  Roxie then gently pushed him back, away from her.

"What was that for?" She asked when she got the courage to look him in the eyes again.

"To shut you up."  Tom didn't smile.  He wanted to, but he couldn't.  He crossed a line that was never meant to be crossed.  "Get some sleep."

"Tom, wait," Roxie reached out a hand as he turned towards the door.  

He ignored her and stepped out into the hall and back into his own room, slumping down against the door after locking it, pounding a fist into the ground.

_Fuck._


	6. Chapter 6

Roxie sat up sharply, the soft knock on her door startling her.  She tiptoed to the door and peered through the peephole.  Tom.  She pressed her fingers to her lips, remembering how his mouth had felt on hers.  His lips were so soft and full.  She considered ignoring him, placing a palm on the door as she watched him out in the hall.  He knocked again, this time a bit harder.

She unlatched the security chain and opened the door.  Holding the door wide open, she waited for him to speak first.  His eyes lit up when he saw her.  A slow smirk grew across his face and he stepped toward her, taking her into his arms.  

Roxie stepped back, being carefully guided by Tom.  The door shut quietly with a click behind him.  

With one hand in her hair and the other on her lower back, he brought his lips to hers.  Unlike last time, this kiss was much softer, as if he were tasting something new for the first time; savoring it.  Roxie found herself sighing against him.  She could melt away in this very spot.  He tenderly cupped her jaw to kiss her better, his tongue slipping past her welcoming lips.  

She'd never tasted anyone like him before.  There was a hint of wood, which made sense considering he was constantly chewing away on a toothpick.  But there was also the taste of spearmint.  As if he'd just gargled mouthwash before knocking on her door.  Which only meant he'd planned this.  Which also meant he'd been thinking about her.

Roxie's adrenaline began to spike.  She reached up and ran her hand through his hair, giving it a small tug at the nape of his neck.  He groaned into her mouth.  He kissed her deeper before moving from her mouth down her jawline and to her neck.  Her eyes rolled back as she turned her head to grant him access to the most sensitive area of her neck.  He grazed her skin delicately with his teeth and then licked the same spot.  

Tom's hands moved around to her front, cupping her breasts, massaging them while he still feasted upon her neck.  Roxie moaned, having missed this kind of passion.  She bent down to meet his mouth again, bringing him back up with her.

He broke the kiss, holding her to him by the hip.  His eyes were hooded with lust, matching her own.  She could feel her panties dampening and itched to get them off.

Staring at her mouth, Tom wet his lips.  "I want to fuck you so bad," he growled before crashing his mouth back against hers.

The phone next to the bed began ringing, but Roxie tried to ignore it, focusing on Tom's tongue caressing her own.  But the harder she tried to ignore it, the louder the ringing grew.

"Dammit!  What?!"  She sat up and answered the phone, blinking in the morning sunlight bursting through the curtains.

"Goedemorgen, wake up call, Miss Howell," the male voice on the line told her.

Roxie groaned and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

"Right.  Thank you."  She hung up and sat in the center of her bed, alone.  She glanced around the room and felt her lips.  

_Was that seriously just a dream?  Did Tom kiss me?_

She tossed herself back onto the pillows and curled up, pulling the sheets back up over her shoulders.  She stared straight ahead and replayed the evening before through her mind.

She had definitely been chased down and nearly attacked.  She remembered that quite vividly.  And Tom had shown up, saving her.  She remembered their heated conversation and then suddenly his lips were on hers.

And she had liked it.  And had even dreamed about it.  God.  Gross.  She couldn't be kissing him!  She didn't even like him!  He was too cocky and bullheaded.  

Still, she kept caressing her lips, remembering what his had felt like.  Now that he'd made a move, she could go ahead and get him canned.

_And that's that._

Roxie sat up again and slipped off the bed, trudging toward the bathroom for a quick shower.  As the bathroom filled with steam from the hot water she'd turned on, she undressed, wincing when she realized her wrists were quite bruised.  There were barely any marks but they definitely felt sore from Daan grabbing her.

She rubbed her sore wrists as she stepped into the shower, letting the hot beads of water wash over her tired body.  She sighed deeply.  Tom really had saved her from something she didn't even want to imagine ever happening to her or anyone she loved.  If he hadn't done his job, who truly knew what would have happened to her?

Rinsing the shampoo from her hair she decided she really did need to thank him and apologize.  Oh but how awkward that would be after their kiss.  Should she bring it up?  Or pretend it never happened?

After dressing she grabbed her bag for the day and stepped into the hall where Tom would be waiting for her.  She actually felt bad that she was already ten minutes behind schedule.  Yet another thing to apologize for.

But Tom wasn't there waiting for her.  Instead, one of the band's security members stood leaning against the wall checking his phone.  A maid's trolley cart rested outside Tom's room and his door was wide open.  She could hear vacuuming from inside the room.

"Kevin?  Where's Tom?" Roxie pulled her sunglasses out of her bag and stuck them onto the top of her head.

Kevin shrugged, looking up.  "Not sure.  Steve called and told me to meet you here and be your shadow today."

Roxie rolled her eyes.  "You're kidding." She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts until finding Steve's number.  She thumbed it and took off down the hall, not waiting to see if Kevin was following or not.

After two rings, Steve answered.  "Well this is a lovely surprise, Roxie.  I wasn't expecting a call so soon."

"What's going on?" She jabbed the down button for the elevator and adjusted the bag on her shoulder.

Steve sighed.  "Congrats, sweetie.  You've managed to run off the last available bodyguard.  I don't know what you did, but he wouldn't even accept payment for the time he was kept on.  Roxana, you know I love you.  But grow up, okay?"

Roxie scoffed in disbelief and ended the call, stuffing her phone into her back pocket.

 

•••

 

"Flight BA423 to Heathrow is now boarding."  

Tom double checked his ticket and stood, joining the queue waiting to hand over their boarding passes.  He shrugged his backpack onto his shoulders and checked his watch.

He wasn't proud of himself for leaving Roxana without an explanation.  But hopefully she would understand.  He'd crossed a line.  He hadn't kissed her to shut her up.  He kissed her because in that moment in the alley, he had a glimpse of losing her and in the flurry of emotions and adrenaline, he'd lost his focus.  He had wanted to kiss her, to hold her against him.  To feel her skin on his.

And the way she had reacted, kissing him back, pulling him harder against her, well...  Leaving was the only option.

The line began to shrink and he was nearly to the podium about to hand over his pass when Roxie grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the queue.

"Roxana?" Tom kept his voice low, hoping not to attract too much attention.  He'd already gained enough, being yanked out of line by a petite woman.

Roxie, her chest heaving, out of breath, took ahold of his hand and pulled him further away from curious onlookers.  Tom yanked his arm back, releasing himself.

"Stop.  What do you want, Miss Howell?  My flight is boarding."

Roxie faced him, her eyes large and round.  "You can't just leave like this. Without a word?  So unprofessional!"

"Add it to the list then.  I really need to go," Tom looked back at his terminal.

"Please don't make me beg..."

Tom looked down at her hand gently placed upon his wrist.  She pulled it away and their eyes met again.

"Don't make me beg.  Because I will if I have to.  I'm not above begging.  And it won't be pretty," she smiled, meekly.

"Roxana," he stepped closer, keeping their conversation private.  "I can't protect you.  You're better off with someone else."

A flash of a cellphone shook the both of them out of their private conversation. Another flash immediately followed. Tom wondered who would be so rude when he realized they had attracted the attention of a few fans.

_Bollocks._

A woman speaking Dutch wrapped her arm around Roxie and pulled her in for a selfie.

"Excuse me," Roxie half-heartedly smiled at Tom. The look in her eyes though, he'd seen that before. The fear of the unknown.

Once the fan snapped the picture, Tom gently separated her from Roxie and wrapped his arm around her waist to guide her away. It was too late. The buzz of curious onlookers grew louder as they realized Roxana, pop icon, was right there in front of them.

More flashes from cameras and cellphones violated them. Tom was stunned by how quickly the crowd grew. He could barely hear himself think, between the adrenaline, the rush of blood coursing through his veins and the shouts of the people suddenly crowding them.

"Tom," Roxie grabbed his arm, hugging herself against him. He covered her as best as he could but the crowd would not quit.

"Please, step back!" He shouted back to the people. He slipped his backpack off his shoulders and turned to block Roxie. 

They were practically being shoved back, almost pinned to the wall with nowhere to escape. Tom shielded Roxie with his body, his anger rising. He felt her grip the back of his shirt tightly, as if she worried he'd disappear and leave her to fend for herself. 

"Get back! Please! Miss Howell is not here for publicity! There is nothing to see here!" Tom could feel the urge to start swinging his fists begin to rise.

Cameras and screaming..., shouting, questions..., pieces of paper and pens being thrusted into their faces...

Tom swatted a cellphone out of his face just as a few security guards stepped in, snaking their way to him and Roxie to help break up the commotion.

"Get them back, I need to get her out of here," Tom shouted to them. He hoped they spoke English. He didn't know a single word of Dutch.

More and more guards appeared. A female guard speaking English instructed them to follow her. The other guards formed a line, barricading the crowd from them. 

Tom took Roxie's hand and pulled her in front of him, turning his back to the crowd. Together they followed the guard along the wall, Roxie between them, turning corners until the maddening crowd was out of view and barely audible. The guard produced a key, unlocking an unmarked door before stepping aside to allow them in.

It was a waiting room of some type. Probably used in the past for VIP flyers. The guard flipped the light on and explained that they would have to wait a while in here. She'd be right outside the door and would let them know when it was safer to depart.

Tom thanked her for her help and locked the door behind her. He turned to Roxie, to appraise her. He met her eyes and could see she was embarrassed.

"Roxana, are you alright?"

She nodded, keeping her eyes on him.  "I'm sorry I made you miss your flight."

"Roxana, I'm sorry but, I, this isn't..." He sighed heavily, frustrated.

Roxie looked away, her eyes beginning to well up.  She seemed to know what he was going to say.  "There is no one else.  I need you.  I'm sorry for being a brat.  I'm sorry for leaving alone... again.  I'm sorry for a lot of things.  And as much as I hate to admit it, I really do need you and I know that now."  

Tom sighed, scrubbing the back of his neck.  "I'm sorry for last night.  That was out of line--"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Tom.  You saved me, we returned to the hotel and that was that."

"Roxana, I can't have you running off again whenever you feel like it.  If I'm going to be your bodyguard, you need to keep me informed.  Use me.  I mean, I'm yours."  Tom smirked, embarrassed, his words not coming out right.  "What I mean is, you can do whatever the hell you want as long as I'm by your side."

Roxie's eyes lit up.  She quickly nodded.  "If you're by my side, I'm by yours.  No more sneaking off.  Not without you.  I promise."  She chewed her lip, her eyes hopeful.  "So you'll stay?"

Looking down at his now useless boarding pass, he ripped it in half.  "Yeah, I'll stay."

"Excellent," Roxie beamed and pulled a boarding pass of her own out of her back pocket, pressing it against his chest.  "You owe me for this ticket to get back here."  

Tom glared and pursed his lips, but couldn't hold back his smile.

"And you may call me Roxie from now on."

"As long as you stop calling me Tim."


	7. Chapter 7

Roxana's tour had really kicked off in Amsterdam.  Being published in the tabloids fighting off mobs of fans had garnered a lot of extra attention.  She was certainly in the spotlight now.  Tom was glad to feel needed.  But he wasn't thrilled that now he actually had to worry about Roxie.

Roxana and her band's European tour bus had made its way through Brussels, stopping for one show, then trudged on towards Paris, France after a full night of sleep.

Curled up on the couch, Roxie was nursing a headache.  Tom glanced up from his phone as she sat up, rubbing her temples hard.  He pocketed his phone, carefully stood to get his bearings as the bus bumped along the road, and opened the mini fridge.  He yanked out a bottled water and twisted open the aspirin bottle, handing both to Roxie.

She looked up at him, squinting in the daylight before gracing him with a tiny smile of appreciation.

She must have had a rough night, Tom assumed.  He'd never seen her with smudged makeup before.  But even with raccoon eyes, he thought she was stunning.

"All good?" He sat across from her as she opened the bottled water and washed back the aspirin.

Roxie groaned and shrugged.  "I think I slept too much," she smirked.  "I dropped flat on my face and didn't move a muscle until the wake up call.  And then I continued to sleep instead of getting ready."

One of Roxie's dancers, Megan, wearing colorful leggings, large hooped earrings, and a pair of oversized sunglasses on the top of her head like a headband, plopped down next to her.  "Ted said we're going to be there in about ten minutes.  I've got my makeup bag if you want to tidy up in the bathroom a bit..."

Tom found a little bit of happiness in Roxie's reaction.

Cocking her head at Megan, Roxie wasn't amused by her suggestion.  She plucked the sunglasses off of Megan's head and put them on.  "This is all I need.  Now let me sleep."  She hunkered back down into a ball.

Megan propped her feet up on the seat across from them, placing them next to Tom.  She wore platform strappy sandals and her toenails were neon purple.  Tom found himself wondering how old she was.  She seemed a bit young to be touring across Europe without her parents.

"You." Megan simply stated, glaring straight at Tom.

Tom grunted in reply, leaning back and fishing his phone back out of his pocket.

"What's your secret, Mr. Man?"

"Secret?"

Megan looked at Roxie who appeared to be dead to the world already, then back at Tom.  "You made her chase after you.  She's never chased after anyone before.  Once someone wrongs her or leaves, they're gone.  Gooone."  

Tom shrugged.  "No secret.  Just good at my job."

Megan slipped off her sandals.  "Rub my feet?"

Tom cringed.  "No."

Megan giggled and moved across the bus to sit next to him.  "I'm just teasing you.  You're kind of grumpy, aren't you."  It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"How old are you?" Tom turned his neck to meet her eyes.

"Old enough, if that's what you're asking." Megan playfully bit her bottom lip.

"No."  Tom stood and went to the front of the bus, bewildered.

Getting away from Megan was his goal, but he figured he'd say hello to Ted, the driver, and discuss escape routes and safety routines.

At their next location, rehearsals started off shaky, due to Roxie's headache.  She pushed through it as best as she could but rehearsals came to a grinding halt when she threw up on the stage.

Tom ran up with a towel and handed it to her, helping her off the stage.  Other crew members rushed to clean up the mess.  

Roxie groaned in embarrassment.  "God, guys, no, I can do it," she whined.

"It's fine, Miss Howell.  You go get some rest, we'll handle it," one of them told her.

Tom pulled her along, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.  They headed to her dressing room where he helped her lie down on the couch.

"You okay?" Tom chewed his toothpick, looking concerned.

Roxie chuckled.  "I'm fine.  It's a migraine, I guess.  I actually feel a load better after vomiting."

"Even so," he started as he dug through her bag, finding her pills and handing them to her with a bottled water, "you should rest a bit.  Take a nap.  I'm sure everyone else can keep rehearsing and then you can jump back in later, yeah?"

Roxie muttered incoherently but nodded.  She closed her eyes and draped an arm over them to block out the light.  Tom turned the lights off on the vanity and stepped out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.

Megan came out of nowhere, surprising him.  "She okay?"

Tom shrugged.  "Migraine, I guess.  She'll be fine after she takes a nap.  I hope."

"You're really sweet, you know?"  Megan leaned against the wall and twirled her hair, smiling sweetly.

Tom smirked.  "I guess.  Just doing my job."

"So you say.  Sure you're not sweet on her?  Isn't that a no-no?"

Tom narrowed his eyes, not liking what she was hinting at.  He cocked his head in her direction and widened his stance.  

"Sweet on her?  No.  She's a client.  I'm paid to take care of her."

"I'm pretty sure you're paid to protect her from harm, not baby her."

"Megan, you're a bit out of line here," Tom warned her.

Megan giggled and pushed away from the wall.  She poked a finger against his chest and lazily trailed it across it.  "Relax, sweetie.  I'm teasing you.  Some would even say I'm flirting, but you can be the judge of that."  She winked and turned around, heading back to the stage.

Tom found himself watching her ass as she sauntered away and he shook his head, annoyed.  She had a point; he was getting a bit too close.  Once again.  He'd need to step back a bit and remember to not be so personal with Roxie.  She's a client.  Nothing more, nothing less.

After the show, (which went great; highly energetic crowd and top notch performance), Tom waited outside of Roxie's dressing room.

"Hey Tom," Megan came skipping by, high on adrenaline from the show.  She was arm in arm with another dancer, one with sleek, darker hair, and beautiful almond shaped eyes.  Tom had noticed her before but they'd never met.

"Hello, Megan."

"Got a friend here who wanted to meet you.  This is Erika.  Erika, this is Tom.  He's the bodyguard."

Erika looked like she wanted to be anywhere but in front of Tom.  She blushed profusely and meekly smiled, saying, "hello."

"Nice to meet you, Erika."

"Oh, well, look at the time," Megan looked at her bare wrist.  "Better dash.  Got something... important to do.  You know.  Bye!"  Megan skipped off, leaving poor Erika in front of Tom.

Erika chewed her lip.  "Heh, Megan is a trip."

Tom smirked.  "That's one word."

"Sorry, I've been meaning to introduce myself, but I'm not very outgoing."

"It's fine.  How long have you been dancing with Roxie?"  Roxie was safe in her dressing room removing her costume, so he figured it was fine to take a breather and make conversation.

"Oh, I've been with her since the beginning."

"That's nice.  It looks like a fun job to have, being paid to dance."

Erika smiled, becoming more confident.  "Yeah, it's pretty awesome.  It's exhausting, but I wouldn't have it any other way.  How about you?  Do you like... guarding... bodies?"   She blushed again.

Tom found her nervousness to be cute.  She seemed intimidated by him but it didn't stop her from trying.

"Pays the bills."

"Does it ever get scary?"

"Scary?"  He took the toothpick out of his mouth and shoved it into his pants pocket.

Erika chewed her lip again.  "Yeah, I mean, it's gotta be dangerous."

"Not when I'm around."

He smiled as he saw the redness of her cheeks grow darker.  She licked her lips and giggled, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"That's good, I guess," she laughed.  "Um, I need to go change.  But, uh, it was nice to finally meet you."  She gave him a small wave and began to depart.

"You too.  See you around."  He returned the wave.

Erika's eyes twinkled and she dashed off.

Tom swallowed hard as he watched her disappear around the corner.  She was cute.  And sweet.

Roxie cleared her throat behind him.  He spun around on his heels, pulling the toothpick back out and sticking it between his teeth.

"Done flirting?" She playfully glared at him.

"That was all her," Tom laughed.  "What's up?"

Roxie turned around.  "Damn zipper again."  She turned her head, eyeing him.

Tom tugged on the top of the zipper until it budged.  He dragged it down her back until it stopped right above the small of her back.  He found himself holding his breath as he nearly always did whenever she was so close to him in such an intimate way.  He trailed his eyes down her back, observing how smooth her skin was.  If she was his, if things were different...

He shook his head of such thoughts.

"Everything okay?" Roxie moved away, slowly turning around, holding a hand over the costume to keep it from falling completely off of her since it was unzipped.

The corner of his mouth twitched.  "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"Tom.  I can tell something is on your mind.  Spit it out."

"It's nothing, really."

She motioned for him to come into the room with her.  He stepped in and she closed the door.  She held onto her costume and went behind the tri-fold screen against the wall to change.

"Really, Tom, spit it out."  Tom watched as she tossed the sparkly tulle over the top of the screen.  Her hand shot out from behind it and she grabbed her jeans off the table next to it.  He heard the rustle of fabric as he tried to figure out how to properly word what was spinning through his mind.

"It's the girls."  He sat back onto the couch, bracing himself for an outburst from Roxie.

She reached out and grabbed her blouse.  "What about them?"

"They're... friendly."  He chewed his toothpick, remembering how Erika's cheeks turned beautifully pink during their brief encounter.

Roxie laughed.  She stepped out from behind the screen, still buttoning her blouse.  "They're babies, Tom, and you're hot.  What do you expect?  They probably think you're bad ass, being a bodyguard and all."

Tom furrowed his brow at her.  "I _am_ bad ass."

Roxie smirked and glanced at him before combing out her hair.  She sat at the vanity and Tom watched her reflection.

"Okay, you are, I'll give you that.  But they find you exciting.  And they're probably horny.  Are they bothering you?"

Tom shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.

Roxie stopped combing her hair mid-stroke, and stared at him through the mirror.  "Am I making you uncomfortable again?"

"I'm pretty used to you by now, love."

Roxie turned in her seat.  "If you want to take one of them out or whatever, it's fine."

"What?" Tom pulled a face, not expecting her to suggest such a thing.

She shrugged.  "They're lonely.  You're probably lonely.  It's a lonely job.  Take someone out tonight.  I'm going straight to bed, you don't need to hang around.  We have a hotel tonight, you can put tape on my door if you don't trust me."

Tom sighed, exasperated.  "Roxie," he started.

"I promise!  I'm sleeping.  You don't have to worry about me.  Erika obviously likes you.  Maybe you'll even get lucky."

Tom stood.  "I'm not doing that.  We're going to bed, and that's that."

Roxie raised her brows at him.

"In our own rooms," he pointed out.  "Me in mine and you in yours."

"Duh."

Tom shook his head.  "And I'm not lonely."  He opened the dressing room door.  "I'll wait for you out here."


End file.
